Z The Chemicals Between Us Complete
by Fanatical Writer
Summary: When Penelope Garcia decided she wanted out of the BAU, it wasn't convenient for Derek Morgan. In fact, it will never be convenient for Derek Morgan. My thoughts of how Derek might react at the notion of being Penelope-less
1. Chapter 1

"What's up, Garcia?" Derek Morgan asked as he let himself into her office. It was after hours, but Penelope was still digging. And in true Penelope style, wasn't going to leave until she'd exhausted all possible options. She yawned and lifted her arms into the air for a stretch.

Morgan couldn't resist the opportunity—he spun her chair around. She squealed at the speed and immediately grabbed the arms of the chair. He stopped when she was facing him, and as usual when she saw him, her heart melted at his grin.

She tilted her head to the side. "So, if we ever end up in bed together, are you gonna call me Garcia or are you going to call me Penelope?" she asked with a grin.

Morgan moved closer to her so they were nose to nose. "Wanna find out?" he asked in a teasing tone.

"No," she said quickly in a small voice.

He rubbed her nose with his. "I'm too much man for you, anyway, Babycakes. No way could you handle me. What's up?"

"I can't…get this case out of my head," she admitted.

He walked over to a clear space on her desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. "I hear you," he agreed.

"Does it scare you that you can think like them?" she asked quietly.

He nodded slowly. "More every day."

"Me, too," she told him. And then, "I applied for a transfer."

"What?" he asked, as he straightened.

She nodded. "And do you want to know the worst part? I don't even care where it is. I just want out of the BAU."

"Garcia—"

She shook her head. "I want to do this, Morgan. Even more, I _need_ to do this."

"You _do_ know that you're as much a part of this team as I am, right? As much as Hotch and Reid and—"

"No, I'm not," she said dismissively.

"Do you really think that?" He sighed heavily. "It's so much easier to do our jobs out there, Garcia, knowing that it's _you_ who's back here. I know you think all you do is man the keyboard--"

"_Wo_man," she corrected.

He grinned at her again. "See. _There_," he said, pointing at her. "When we're out on a tough case, sometimes, the only time I smile all day, is when I talk to _you_."

She took a deep breath, but he kept talking.

"I _like_ it when I look down and your name pops up on the caller ID."

"Oh, yeah," she said doubtfully. "Very exciting stuff."

"You don't give yourself enough credit," he told her. "But then again, you never have."

"That's not true," she argued.

"Do you want me to profile you?" he asked.

"No," she muttered.

"Then the conversation should probably stop here," he advised.

She nodded and spun her chair back around to face her computer screen.

Taking that as his cue to leave, Derek threw his empty coffee cup in the trash and headed for the doorway.

"Oh, and Derek?" Penelope said, spinning herself around in her chair.

"Yeah?"

"_You_ couldn't handle _me_." She winked at him. "Just wanted to set you straight."

"Whatever gets you through the night, Garcia," he said as he left her office.

She sighed as the door swung shut behind him. "You have no idea what gets me through the night," she muttered.

___

Penelope stepped out of the bathtub and grabbed her towel to dry off. She put some baby powder on—she liked it when her sheets smelled good—and then put her pajamas on—a pair of white cotton pants with red flowers on them and a matching red spaghetti strap tank top. It didn't hold her up very well, but then that wasn't the idea. She had just finished brushing her teeth when her doorbell rang. "What the—" she said, and then jumped at the sight of lightening followed by booming thunder. "Penelope Jane Garcia," she said to herself, "You have been looking at one too many crime scene photographs." With a sigh, she put her toothbrush away and went downstairs to her front door. She turned her outside light on and peeked through the peephole, then pulled her door open.

"Morgan!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here? In the pouring rain?"

"I don't want a new Babycakes," he told her fervently as droplets of rain fell down his face and under the collar of his brown leather jacket.

"What?" she asked confused.

"If you leave," he clarified. "I don't want someone new, Garcia. I want _you_."

"But I—" she stopped as his gaze perused her body. She blushed as she realized her attire. This wasn't an outfit she was meant to be seen in.

"Damn, you look so much better than I even imagined," he said in a hoarse voice.

"Derek?" she asked.

"It would be…polite of you to ask me in," he told her.

Without saying a word, she stepped backwards, allowing him to enter her apartment. "Good enough," he said.

"You…imagined me in my pajamas?" she asked.

He nodded. "Surprised?"

Her eyes widened. "I'll…be right back," she said as she started for the stairs.

But Morgan was too quick. He grabbed her arm and turned her around, forcing her to make eye contact with him. "Don't you dare change," he warned her.

She nodded as she swallowed past the lump in her throat. Was Derek Morgan really here in her house? Or was this another dream?

"Talk to me," he commanded as he took his jacket off. He must have hit the gym after he left work, because he was wearing a white t-shirt that molded perfectly to his upper body and a pair of sweatpants. His t-shirt was still damp with sweat.

"About what?" she asked.

He sighed. "A transfer? Really?"

"It was just a thought," she said.

"Can we sit?" he asked, nodding his head toward her living room.

She led the way in and after he sat down on the couch, she walked over to the chair and had a seat. She didn't miss his grin at her seat choice. _Far away from him_. She folded her arms across her chest self-consciously and met his eyes hesitantly. He stared at her without saying a word until she finally spoke. "Would you please stop doing that?" she asked.

"What?" he asked.

"Interrogating me with your eyes!" she said hotly. "I'm not a suspect."

"Hot damn," Morgan said with a grin. "Garcia gets fired up. And all this time I thought you were unflappable."

"OK, look at me the other way," she said.

"What?" he said with a laugh.

"At least then I know what your eyes are trying to say to me," she said.

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't tell what you're thinking!" she said. "And it's throwing me off."

"You wanna know what I'm thinking?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

"You sure, Garcia? Because I won't be able to take it back."

She didn't say anything, but he answered anyway. "I'm wondering what your lips taste like."

"Toothpaste," she blurted out.

He laughed. "Aside from the toothpaste," he told her.

She sighed. "I think you need to go," she told him, standing up. "I'm…tired. It's been a long couple of days."

He stood, too. "Chicken," he taunted.

"Bawk bawk," she said, earning herself another one of his disarming grins.

"You should really think twice about transferring. The BAU needs _you_," he said. "Not just anyone who can type 75 words a minute. They need _you. We _need you."

"I'll think about it," she promised as she walked him to the door. What else was she going to say? She was still reeling from the news that he was interested in her lips.

He shrugged into his jacket and she walked him to the door. "But no matter what happens, you have to promise me one thing, Garcia."

"What?" she asked.

"_Don't _let anyone else call you Babycakes," he warned.

She grinned at him. "Cross my heart."

"Oh, and the answer to your question? Penelope."

"What?" she asked confused.

"You asked what I'd call you if we ever ended up in bed together. And the answer is Penelope. But it's not if. It's _when." _

And with that, Derek Morgan opened the front door and left Penelope Garcia standing there speechless.


	2. Chapter 2

_Ok, so i tried to make this a oneshot, but Morgan was so freakin' desperate to get Garcia into bed, I just couldn't leave well enough alone! So I decided to have a little fun with it. Stay tuned for the third and final chapter. (I think!) Hopefully I'll finish it in the next few days._

Penelope Garcia walked onto the floor leading to the BAU and nearly jumped out of her skin when Derek Morgan stepped out from behind one of the pillars. She gasped and her hand flew to her throat. "I think you just took three years off my life!" she scolded him then sighed. "_This_ is why I don't work in the field," she said. _Among other reasons._

He just smiled his heart-melting smile at her, his eyes crinkling just right at the outer corners. "It's been six months, Garcia," Morgan said in a sultry voice.

She continued the trek to her office. "Since what?" she asked with forced indifference. _As if she didn't know._

"Since you promised me a hot night between the sheets," he said, getting just the reaction he wanted. She came to an immediate halt.

"Wha—" She took a deep breath, released it slowly, and closed her eyes. She cleared her throat, and then opened her eyes again. "I don't exactly recall that conversation," she said, once again picking up her pace. At this rate, she was never going to make it to her office.

"Allow me to refresh your memory. You asked me what I was going to call you when we ended up in bed together," he told her, keeping her pace.

"If," she said. "I said _if_. _You_ said when."

He grinned triumphantly. "So you _do_ remember."

She glared at him. "Nice, Morgan," she said.

"I'm thinking it's time," he announced.

"Time for what?" she asked in a higher than normal pitched voice.

"For us to find out just how electric it'll be when we get together," he said.

Penelope Garcia would swear her insides were already quivering. Not that she'd ever admit it. She forced a serene look on her face. "What makes you think I want to…" She looked him up and down with what she hoped was revulsion. But she doubted it. "Fornicate with you?" she finished.

He grinned at her. "Oh, you want to," he told her. "I've seen the way you look at me when I'm not looking."

"Wha—"

He wiggled his eyebrows as he took a sip of his coffee. "Didn't know you were an ass girl."

"Oh, my God!" she said in a hushed tone of voice. "What is wrong with you? I think this probably qualifies as the _least_ professional conversation ever had on FBI grounds!"

"You know what I'd like to have on FBI grounds?" he asked suggestively.

"A cold shower?" she shot back.

"You gonna be in there with me?" he asked.

She came to a stop and held a hand up. "_You_ want to sleep with _me_?" she asked.

He nodded. "You have no idea how much."

"Why?" she asked.

"Electric," he said. "Whenever I'm with you, it gets electric."

She shook her head. "Never gonna happen, Morgan," she said, leaving him standing there as she stalked off. He sighed when his phone beeped to indicate a message. He looked at the screen on his work phone, but there was no message, so he put it back on his belt and reached for his personal cell. He grinned as he saw the sender.

_My place, tonight. Eight p.m. Be ready to go. And Morgan…don't be late. This is your only chance._

God the woman was a whiz with technology. It only upped her hotness factor. He snapped his phone shut and headed for his desk. "Hot damn," he said softly, entering the BAU with a grin on his face. It disappeared as soon as Hotch came out of his office. "BAU agents—conference room."

And twenty minutes later—much to Morgan's chagrin—they were wheels up.

___

"Bastard," Penelope said as she sunk deeper into the bubbles, glass of wine in one hand, half-full bottle in the other. She closed her eyes and tried to relax—but no dice. She was too pissed off at Morgan for that. It was eight thirty and he still hadn't shown up. And she'd gone in the system to check—all the agents had swiped back into the building nearly two hours ago. "I can't believe I don't rate above paperwork."

She had been in there seething for close to twenty minutes—or almost nine o'clock if you were keeping time of how late Morgan was—and of course, she was—when the doorbell rang. Her eyes snapped open and she knew instantly it was him. "Oh, hell, no," she said, finishing off her glass of wine, putting the empty glass on the side of the tub and lying back into the bubbles. She had been in there for another five minutes when the pounding started.

"Garcia!" she heard him yell. "Answer the damn door! I'm sorry I'm late!"

Her face filled with fury, and she sat up—but only due to anger. She had absolutely no intention of interrupting her bubble bath for him.

"I'll kick down this damn door!" he threatened.

She soared up out of the bathwater so quickly she almost broke her neck. She jumped out of the tub and not even taking time to towel off, threw on her short terrycloth robe and flew down the stairs.

"I'll kill you!" she yelled through the front door. She could just picture him standing on the other side of the door rolling his eyes.

"With what? A computer animated assassin?" he shot back.

"Maybe," she muttered.

"Open the damn door!" he said, his voice rising.

"You're late!" Her tone matched his.

"I have a good excuse."

"I'm sure you do," she snapped.

"Garcia—" he said low enough so that his voice softened but loud enough so she heard.

"I'm mad at you!" she said. Not that she needed to, her tone let him know exactly what she thought.

"I don't doubt it."

She sighed and threw open the door. "If you really wanted me—" She stopped midsentence, her eyes settling on his left shoulder. "Morgan," she said nervously.

"It was just a bullet," he told her calmly.

He heard her breathing increase.

"Practically a graze," he continued.

Her eyes filled with tears and she threw herself at his chest, breaking into uncontrollable sobs.


	3. Chapter 3

_This is the final installment of The Chemicals Between Us. I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading! Also--don't know the ins and outs of gunshots, so I took the liberty of making Morgan's fit my storyline._

He used his good arm to first catch her, and then to embrace her. "Garcia," he said softly. "I am _fine._ The blood stain makes it look a _lot_ worse than it actually is." He heard her sniffle and began to stroke her hair. "I promise," he continued.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Can we sit down?" he asked.

She pulled away and nodded, leading the way into her kitchen. She pulled out a chair for him and he sat down. She took the one across from him and studied his face looking for any sign that he might not in fact be fine.

"We went to a house to question a witness and it turned out he was the UnSub. He was caught off guard, drew his pistol, and I threw myself in front of JJ," he told her.

"Oh," she said softly.

"It didn't hit any major arteries. The exit wound was messy, so they had to stitch it up. Other than that, I'm _fine_," he told her again.

She nodded, sniffling once again, and stood up quickly. He was certain she was doing whatever she could to avoid his gaze now. She began to scurry about the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards. "Can I get you something?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he assured her.

"Coffee...maybe? Or liquor? _Hard_ liquor?" she said. She opened one of the cupboards and began searching.

Morgan got up from his spot at the table and walked up behind her. She froze when he slid an arm around her waist. "Garcia," he whispered in her ear. "It's still me."

"Hard liquor it is," she said triumphantly.

He chuckled as he gently spun her around. "Penelope," he said softly. He immediately captured her attention at the use of her first name. "I didn't come here to be taken care of," he told her. "I came here…to take care of you."

She shook her head, her eyes filling with more tears. "Not like this," she said.

"Oh, I think this is perfect," he said, his eyes dancing. "I have a feeling you'll be much more agreeable while I'm in _this_ state than you would be if I was uninjured."

"Morgan…"

"You promised me a night with you, and that's what I want."

"But I don't want to hurt you," she said softly.

"Garcia," he said in a dangerously low tone. "You're _killin'_ me in that robe."

She looked down at herself, and when she lifted her gaze to his, she frowned. "In this old thing?" She laughed. She'd had the damn thing for years and the color was faded and the material was threadbare. But it was comfy and she couldn't bear to part with it. And no one had seen her in it in years. "It's practically falling apart."

He looked into her eyes and nodded slowly. "Yep," he agreed. "I bet that thing's spent countless hours touching your skin."

Her eyes widened at his comment.

"And I bet the damn thing even _smells_ like you when you're not wearing it." He leaned into her shoulder and took a deep breath. "Yep."

She looked him in the eye, and tilted her head to the side. He could see the indecision in her eyes, but couldn't make out the expression on her face—it was a cross between intense lust and adoration. And completely reciprocated.

"Garcia, you keep looking at me like that, and I'm gonna finish before I even get you started," he told her.

She laughed as she put her forehead down onto his shoulder. He had to force himself to stay still, to keep his hands at his side, his fists clenching and unclenching. He could feel the tension in the room, as if his very fate would be decided in the next few seconds. And the moment she lifted her eyes—he knew.

She smiled lightly at him. "My room is this way," she whispered, taking him by the hand. She led him from kitchen and up the stairs that were across her entryway. Her bedroom was the first door on the left and it had a neutral feel to it. Her walls were a beige color and her bed was an oak four poster. He'd never seen so many pillows on one bed before—they were all shades of blue and brown—complementing her comforter.

His eyes rose to hers as she smiled boldly at him and sat down on the edge of her bed. He returned her smile with one of his own—confident and self assured. He walked towards her and when he reached the bed, he stepped in between her legs and looked down into her eyes. She'd made it clear that this was a one time thing, and that was her call. But he was going to whatever he could to make it clear that if she wanted more than that, he was more than willing. That was _his _call. He reached down and cupped her cheek, lowering his face to hers. He kissed her on the lips and when she opened her mouth his tongue immediately swooped in to find hers. No pretenses, no banter—it was important to him that she know much he wanted her.

His kiss was sure and swift all at the same time, and she was giving it right back to him. He pulled his lips from hers and sighed in appreciation. "So much better than toothpaste," he told her.

She laughed as she used her knuckles to brace herself to move back onto the mattress. He lay down next to her and reached over, undoing the belt on her robe. He reached underneath and placed his hand at her bare waist, pulling her up onto her side so they were facing each other. He placed another soft kiss on her lips and then moved to her neck, kissing a path down her throat while his hand found her breast. He ran a thumb over her nipple and it hardened instantly. He pushed her robe back off her shoulder and kissed his way down to where his thumb had been. He heard her sharp intake of breath and couldn't help but grin. God, she was so soft. He concentrated his attention first on one breast, then the other before returning his mouth to hers. He tried gently pushing her onto her back, but she resisted. He looked up at her questioningly and she shook her head. "I don't want you to do too much," she said as she pushed him onto his back. She sat up and swung a leg over him so she was straddling him.

"Garcia, you surprise me to no end," he told her.

She winked at him as she began to work on the buttons of his shirt. He lifted his back off the mattress so she could help him off with it and her gaze narrowed. "They didn't give you a sling?" she asked accusingly. The thought hadn't occurred to her before.

"It's in the car," he admitted with a smirk.

"Morgan…" she said.

"Not the time, Garcia," he told her, taking his good arm and placing it behind his head as if he had all the time in the world. He looked up at her with what he knew was challenge, but she chose to ignore it, nodding instead as she tossed his shirt onto the floor.

She looked down at his chest and sighed. His abs were sculpted perfectly. "Oh, if I could clone you," she said longingly.

He grinned wickedly at her. "And just _what_ would you do with two of me, Baby Girl?" he wanted to know.

She looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "The possibilities are endless." She returned her gaze to his and lifted an eyebrow. "What next?" she asked suggestively.

"Clothes," he told her.

"Clothes?" she repeated in confusion.

"There are too many of them," he clarified.

She laughed. "So there are. Let's start with you."

He nodded. "Let's," he agreed.

She undid the button on his pants, then his zipper. He lifted his hips and she pulled them down over his thighs. All she wanted was to see him, but she forced herself to concentrate on getting his pants off lest she forget them and take him while they were both half dressed. That just wouldn't do. Once they were off, she looked up and her breath caught in her throat. "You're going commando," she said, biting back a grin.

He nodded. "Yep."

"Naughty," she said. Now she was never going to be able to function at the office. Morgan went commando? She'd never be able to think of anything else while he was standing in front of her. Or behind her—or on the same planet as her. Yep, she was officially doomed. This wasn't going as planned at all. This was supposed to get him _out_ of her system, but she wasn't so sure it was going to work out that way. A little taste and…she shuddered at the thought.

"Now you," he commanded in a firm tone breaking into her thoughts. Well, she wasn't about to stop now that they'd started. She'd have to deal with the ramifications later.

She nodded as she pulled the robe down off her shoulders. She was naked beneath, what with her hasty exit from the tub; and she heard Morgan's sharp intake of breath as it fell in a pool at her feet. "Gorgeous," he said softly as his eyes moved from head to toe. "Just as I suspected."

He winced as he sat up on the bed.

"Are you OK?" she asked as she made her way back to the bed.

"Just trying to get closer to you," he told her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her down onto the bed. She landed on her back, and he used his good arm to raise himself up.

"What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.

"What kind of man would I be if I let you do all the work?" he asked huskily, looking down at her.

"Typical?" she said sweetly.

He laughed heartily. "Oh, Baby Girl, I am anything but," he said softly, his lips finding her neck once again.

"Yeah, I'm beginning to realize…Oh!" she said as she felt his teeth graze her earlobe.

He laughed. "Like that?" he asked, returning to the task at hand.

She laughed, too. "That obvious, huh?"

"Only to someone with my skill level," he said in a teasing tone.

And it was that that always made her feel at ease with him. He could make her laugh even in the most unexpected of situations.

He heard her sigh as his hand moved down between her breasts and over her stomach. He reached between her thighs, and he knew when he found what he was looking for, because he felt her body tighten in anticipation. He used his thumb to stroke her, quick and gentle all at once. "Derek," she said, her heels digging into the mattress.

Very rarely did Penelope Garcia use his first name. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on inside of him, but without even thinking, he stopped what he was doing and despite the pain in his shoulder, lifted both of his arms so his hands cupped her face. All he wanted was to be inside of her. She looked up at him questioningly and he leaned down, placing feather soft kisses on her eyelids, cheeks, and then kissing her soundly on the mouth. He reached down between her legs once more, slipping two fingers inside of her. She was hot and wet. And so ready for him. He positioned himself above her, but she put her hands on his shoulders.

"Wait," she said quickly.

"Penelope, I swear to God, if you back out now…"

She laughed. "Not on your life. But…I haven't done anything for you," she pointed out.

"Trust me, Garcia. You have done _plenty _for me."

"When?" she asked doubtfully.

"When you opened the front door," he told her as he pushed inside of her. She tightened her hold on his back, her fingernails digging into his skin as he began to move in and out of her, slowly at first, then he quickened his pace. "God, you're hot," he told her.

"Only for you," she said breathlessly, her shoulders coming up off the mattress. "Oh, Morgan…" she said longingly, her eyes closed.

Morgan wasn't sure how long he was gonna last. He hadn't had this problem in a long time, but then again, he'd never been in bed with Penelope Garcia. "Garcia, are you…"

"Any second now, cowboy." Her eyes opened and she couldn't help but notice the little droplets of sweat on his forehead. She was sure that under normal circumstances, Derek Morgan _never _broke out into a sweat. But these weren't normal circumstances. "Derek, if this is too much…"

"Oh, no, Baby Girl," he said, gritting his teeth. "Trust me—it's just right. I just…"

"Oh, Morgan," she half said, half moaned. "You…should…never stop."

He couldn't agree more, but he couldn't say the words out loud without losing control. "Oh, God, Penelope," he said instead.

She let go of his back and reached up to grab the pillows on either side of her head. He could see her teeth biting into her lower lip. "Just let it go, baby girl," he said. The sooner she did, the sooner he could. She lifted her hips again and again, meeting each of his thrusts with her own--he felt like he was going to explode. "Penelope—" he said again through gritted teeth. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to go on. She lifted her hips to meet his one last time, and then sighed as she sank back onto the mattress.

"I'm good," she said, gasping for breath.

"I _guess_ the hell you are," he said with a groan as he collapsed on top of her, breathing raggedly. Another second and she wouldn't have been able to finish. He lay there for a minute before he started laughing. He couldn't help it—and he couldn't stop it.

"What are you laughing at?" she asked in amusement.

"I thought you were going to squeeze the stuffing right out of those pillows," he told her.

"_I_ thought I was gonna squeeze the stuffing out of _you_. That's why I had to let go. I thought I was gonna draw blood!"

"I'm…pretty sure you did," he said.

"I did not!" she said, lifting her head up to look. "Oh, God. I did," she admitted. "And I can't even apologize for it because…I'm just not sorry."

"Well," he said, rolling over so he was lying beside her. "I am _glad_ to hear that."

They lay there for a minute in silence before she rolled up onto her side and started absently stroking his chest. "You know what?"

"What?" he asked.

"I don't think this counted," she said, her eyes brightening.

"What?" he asked in confusion.

"I think this was just really long, _really_ good…foreplay."

"I thought this was just a one time thing," he told her.

"Well, so did I. But with your physical impairment and all, I just don't think it's fair to judge you on that."

He cleared his throat, his eyes dancing. "Are you saying I wasn't good?" he asked with mock astonishment.

She laughed. "No. I'm just saying…I want to see your A game."

He laughed. "Oh, Garcia," he said, lifting a hand to her neck and pulling her face down to his. He kissed her soundly. "It could take me _forever _to recuperate."

"Well, I'll just have to settle for _this..._until _then_," she told him.

He shook his head at her logic. Derek Morgan never thought he'd be so glad to have been shot.


End file.
